


Baking Disaster

by Seveduit11233



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Baking, F/M, Fire, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seveduit11233/pseuds/Seveduit11233
Summary: In the aftermath of a divorce, Pip and Angie discuss their father. One thing leads to another and then they're baking.The issue?Neither of them have even baked before.





	Baking Disaster

Philip was lying on the sofa, reading a fascinating passage of Shakespeare. All seemed well in the Hamilton household until Angie suddenly stopped playing the piano. He glanced up to see his sister towering over him, bright violet blue eyes flashing with sadness. Instinctively knowing his sister wanted to talk about their parents, he swept his feet onto the ground and patted area where they had previously been. Angie sat obediently and faced him, anxious expression clear on her face.  
  
“Do you think mama will forgive papa?”  
  
That was Angie, always getting to the point with no tact whatsoever. It wasn’t that Philip disliked it. It was just part of Angie, and it was certainly better than those who danced around the problem all day.  
  
No, the issue was that Philip didn’t know how to respond to the question. Philip wasn’t even sure if he forgave their father. Their mother had been heartbroken. They had seen her sobbing her eyes out and deleting all the emails they had wrote to each other in the years before their marriage. It was a traumatizing experience to hear their mother furiously screaming at their father and kicking him out. The aftermath in itself was terrible, to hear everyone gossiping about their parents with no restraint, the pointing and whispering. He carefully deliberated over the question, knowing any lie would be instantly spotted.  
  
“I think, that even though pops did a terrible thing, mom loves pops so much that she’ll forgive him in time.”  
  
Angie nodded, thinking it over.  
  
“Do you think papa should be forgiven?”  
  
That was the question. Did he? Their father ruined their name, their reputation, their family. Did he still deserve forgiveness? Their mother could forgive too easily, to the point of being tricked repeatedly. Aunt Angelica had said that Alexander didn’t deserve someone so kind and loving as Eliza.  
  
“...Maybe. If he truly is sorry, then maybe.”  
  
Angie slowly nodded. Feeling responsible for Angie’s dampened mood, Philip suggested,  
  
“What if we do something to help?”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like… we bake some cookies. They’re so tasty, I’m sure it’ll make mom happy!”  
  
“Sure!” she eagerly agreed, hopping off the sofa. They scurried to the kitchen. Philip helped Angie onto the counter, where she grabbed their mother’s secret recipe book from the uppermost shelf. It wasn’t as well hidden as their mother liked to believe. They flipped to the cookie section. Saliva flooded their mouths.  
  
“Could we also have some?” Angie asked hopefully. Philip chuckled and ruffled her hair.  
  
“Of course!”  
  
With the temptation of fresh cookies in their minds, they dove in. Unfortunately, neither of them had baked before.  
  
“Three cups of flour,” Philip read out. Angie frowned.  
  
“A cup?” A look of realization crossed her face. “I know!”  
  
She raced over to the cabinet and grabbed a drinking cup, holding it above her head triumphantly. Philip nodded in approval. He dragged the massive bag out of the cabinet and set it on the floor. Angie got a big bowl. Now they just needed to fill the cup and put it into the bowl. It all worked out smoothly until Angie stuck the cup in for the third cup, but when she pulled it out she accidentally knocked the flour bag over. It toppled over, spilling white powder everywhere.  
  
“I’m sorry!” Angie started crying. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Philip was quick to comfort her.  
  
“Don’t worry, we can fix it.”  
  
“We can?” Angie sniffled.  
  
“Sure!”  
  
Together, they pushed the majority of the flour back into the bag and righted it. Puffing from the exertion, Philip couldn’t help but think that it was worth it. Angie was smiling brightly again. He picked the book back up and read,  
  
“One and a fourth cup of sugar.”  
  
Both of them were bewildered. How did you get a fourth of a cup? Then Philip snapped his fingers, and raced out of the room. He returned a bare second later, holding a ruler.  
  
“What are we going to do with that?” Angie asked.  
  
“It’s quite easy,” Philip explained, measuring the height of the cup. “You simply divide the height of the cup by four. Hmm… five centimeters. Where’s my calculator?”  
  
“One point twenty five,” Angie answered, doing the math in her head. Philip was surprised, but decided to continue as if he knew the answer all along.  
  
“Yes, quite good Angie.” He cleared his throat.  
  
“Now we just mark the point…” He carefully counted up before tracing a wobbly line across the cup. “...and measure up to there!”  
  
“Wow! You’re so smart!”  
  
“Yup!” Philip agreed, starting to feel more confident.  
  
Angie did precisely as instructed, measuring the sugar to the line, and put it in with the flour. Both feeling accomplished, they referred back to the book.  
  
“Three fourths cup of brown sugar.”  
  
“I know what to do!” Angie cried. She eagerly made the mark and dumped the sugar in.  
  
“Wait Angie! That’s not brown!” Philip corrected. Angie frowned at the white sugar.  
  
“How do we make it brown?”  
  
Philip thought for a moment.  
  
“Food colouring!”  
  
He raced to the cabinet and brought out the brown bottle. He doused the sugar until it was completely soaked through.  
  
“2 eggs.”  
  
“That’s easy.” Angie opened the fridge and brought out two eggs, which she then threw in the bowl. One of the eggs cracked slightly, leaking egg white.  
  
“Yuck!” Angie exclaimed.  
  
“It’s probably supposed to do that,” Philip assured.  
  
“But I eat that?”  
  
“It’ll look better later, I promise.”  
  
Momentarily satisfied, Angie moved on to the next ingredient.  
  
“A cup of butter.”  
  
“How do we fit butter into a cup?” Angie asked, holding up a slab of butter. Philip thought for a moment.  
  
“Just push it in.”  
  
They did that and tried to get as close as possible, but the butter refused to fit perfectly. Eventually they gave up and just put in their approximate.  
  
“One teaspoon of cornstarch.”  
  
“The cornstarch is over here!” Philip said, opening a cabinet. He was lucky he had been there when his mother had mentioned it. Angie sat, staring at the page.  
  
“What’s a teaspoon?” Angie asked.  
  
“I dunno.”  
  
They sat and pondered it. Philip used one of the word techniques their mother had taught him. He found the word spoon and separated it. Now it was just tea.  
  
“I know! A teaspoon is a spoon dipped in tea!”  
  
“That makes sense!” Angie agreed. “But mama said to never touch hot water without her.”  
  
“She said not to touch it. I won’t.”  
  
“But.. but…”  
  
She had been there when their father had scalded himself in hot water. It hadn’t been happy.  
  
“Do you have a better idea?” Philip asked, picking up the teapot.  
  
Angie had to have one, or else Philip would get burned too! She thought furiously before it dawned on her.  
  
“Papa always keeps a pot in his office!”  
  
“Are you crazy? Pops’ll kill us if he knew we went in there!”  
  
“Well, yeah, but it’ll be easier. Please?”  
  
Under the influence of Angie’s puppy dog eyes, they quietly entered the study. Even though they knew there was no possible way their father could be in there, they moved like they were in a spy movie. Philip snatched the cold pot and they made a dash for it.  
  
“I can’t believe I did that,” Philip gasped. Nevertheless, they dipped the spoon and set to work on the cornstarch.  
  
“Cornstarch looks sort of like flour,” Angie commented.  
  
“Next is a teaspoon of vanilla extract.”  
  
“What’s that?” Angie asked.  
  
“Umm… I think it’s this,” Philip replied, holding up a bottle. As he opened it, the delicious smell wafted through the air. It was similar to ice cream.  
  
“Could we taste some?” Angie asked hopefully. Philip, unwilling to refuse his sister, poured out a spoonful and gave it to her. She stuck it in her mouth, quickly spitting it out.  
  
“It tastes terrible!” she spluttered.  
  
“No way! It smells so good!” Philip argued back, trying some himself. He gagged. “It’s so bitter!”  
  
“If we add this it’ll taste horrible!” Angie stated. “It must be a mistake!”  
  
“I agree!” Philip exclaimed, placing the extract back on the shelf. They moved on to the next ingredient.  
  
“A teaspoon of baking soda.”  
  
“It’s soda!” Philip grabbed a can from the pantry. “Soda is delicious!”  
  
They poured it onto the spoon, then the bowl. As Philip turned back to the book, Angie poured another can of soda into the mixture.  
  
“Half a teaspoon of salt.”  
  
“Salt?” Angie stuck her tongue out. “Salt is disgusting.”  
  
“But we add it to our food. It's not like vanilla extract,” Philip argued. This time they agreed to put in a minuscule amount of the powder in.  
  
“Lastly, my favourite, chocolate!” Philip exclaimed excitedly.  
  
“Chocolate!” Angie echoed gleefully.  
  
“But where do we get it?” Philip muttered. After a series of candy thefts, Eliza had banned all manner of sweets in the household.  
  
“I have some!” Angie smiled.  
  
“Really? How?”  
  
“I saved my Halloween candy,” Angie replied smugly. Philip had stuffed himself as soon as he had gotten home.  
  
“It’s the middle of winter, Angie. If you had any chocolate, you would’ve eaten it by now.”  
  
“Want to bet?”  
  
Philip ended up losing that bet, in addition to six dollars he had scrupulously saved. Looking extremely pleased with herself, Angie unwrapped her chocolate and placed it in the mixture.  
  
“Let’s see… mix well.”  
  
Angie placed her hand in the bowl and started flailing it vigorously. Dough flew in all directions. When she was done, they looked at the horrifying liquidy mess they had made.  
  
“Is it supposed to be this colour?” Angie asked meekly.  
  
“I’m sure it’ll look better after we cook it.” Philip skimmed down the page. “It says to put it in the oven for 10 minutes at 350 degrees.”  
  
“350 degrees? What does that mean?”  
  
“Dunno. We probably just press the up arrow 350 times.”  
  
The opened the oven and pushed the bowl in before closing it. They stared at the series of buttons.  
  
“Do you know how to use the oven?” Angie asked.  
  
“No, but I’m good with machines. Let me try.”  
  
Miraculously, he managed to start it.  
  
“Yes! Now let’s count!”  
  
“One… two…three… four…”  
  
“..349...350!”  
  
“We finished!”  
  
In their celebration, they didn’t notice the smoke billowing out the top.

Ten minutes, four fire trucks, and one angry aunt later, they were in their room, grounded for a week and forbidden to attempt cooking without a trusted adult. Sulking at having been punished, they didn’t notice when the door opened.  
  
“Angie, Philip.”  
  
Philip was up and out of bed in a flash.  
  
“Mom! You came out of your room!”  
  
A soft giggle escaped their mother. It seemed as if they hadn't heard her voice in forever.  
  
“Indeed. I heard about the baking escapade downstairs and I wanted to see.”  
  
“Our cookies were a failure,” Angie mumbled into her pillow.  
  
“Not so. You two did this to cheer me up, right? The effort you put into it made me feel much better than any cookies could.”  
  
“You mean, you’re not upset that we almost blew up the oven and burned down the house?” Angie asked.  
  
“I didn’t say that. You could've been seriously hurt. But I trust you’ve learned your lesson.”  
  
“Never bake without a adult,” Philip and Angie said.  
  
“Yup. Now, who wants a hug?”  
  
Philip and Angie rushed into their mother’s arms. They stayed that way, knowing that no matter what came their way, whether it was a flaming oven or a messy divorce, they could overcome anything as long as the had each other.

"Now, where did you get that chocolate?"

**Author's Note:**

> I am rereading this and cringing. Sorry for making you read this.


End file.
